Here we are again. Oh, the basic details are the same. The eyes still slant, the bow is still in the lips, and the mind is as keen as the limbs are long. Oh, oh, it must be the same girl.
Oh, but not the girlwoman you once knew. No, baby, this is a whole new Disaster.
There's little in taking or giving,
There's little in water or wine;
This living, this living, this living
Was never a project of mine.
Oh, hard is the struggle, and sparse is
The gain of the one at the top,
For art is a form of catharsis,
And love is a permanent flop,
And work is the province of cattle,
And rest's for a clam in a shell,
So I'm thinking of throwing the battle-
Would you kindly direct me to hell?
